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P&J Column 11.6.15

You cannae shove your granny aff a bus. But you can escort a supermodel off a plane.

View from the Midden – rural affairs with Jock Alexander

It’s been an intemperate wik in the village. It’s been fit can only be described as unseasonably het this last three or fower days. Or “summer” as we like the cry it. We dinna usually get fine weather in June. We dinna usually get fine weather at aa. And, michty, we’re hoping the torrential rains return soon, as fit a state ab’dy’s been in. There’s been reports that kiddies hiv been setting fire tae Tam Wilson’s bails. And, as you can imagine, he’s nae best pleased aboot that.

In fact, there’s been bad behavior aa o’er the place. You’ll hiv heard aboot yon famous skinnymalink Kate Moss, supermodel and dochter of racing legend Sterling, “kicking aff” during a recent EasyJet flight fae Turkey. Weel, willowy catwalk queen Kate is nae half the quine that is Feel Moira. In fact, Moira is at least fower times the quine that is Kate Moss, possibly even six. But, like Kate, she was also in trouble this past wikend, for her conduct during a journey fae an exotic destination. In Moira’s case the number 380 bus trundling hame fae the Taste o’ Grumpian festival in the seething metropolis of Inverurie. Moira had been exhibiting her famous (some would say notorious) hame-made date loaf. Unique among cakes it is tasty enough to be served as a dessert, yet firm enough tae be stuffed in a sock and used as an offensive weapon. Sadly, she got a wee bittie cerried awa wi’ the free samples on offer at the Brewfest Marquee, alang wi’ Norman Calder’s shortbread fingers and Jean-Christophe Novelli’s seared scallops. So, afore she was halfway hame she wiz fully awa. Kate Moss got intae trouble for getting up tae ging tae the lavvy files the aircraft wis experiencing turbulence. Weel, it wis pretty turbulent on that bus afore Moira needed the lavvy. God only knows fit it would have been like if they’d tried tae stop her!

Professor Hector Schlenk, Senior Research Fellow at the Bogton Institute for Public Engagement with Science

As a scientist, people are always asking me questions such as “Are homeopathic remedies effective?”, “Will we ever have holographic TV?” and “What are you looking at?” to which the answers are, of course, ‘No’, ‘Yes’ and ‘I don’t know, I’m not very good at jigsaw puzzles’. Recently, however, people have been asking me about Mars. “Well”, I tell them, “I think they’ve been getting smaller, or maybe we’re just getting bigger!” And then we laugh, and fondly remember ‘Spangles’ together.

They’re referring, of course, to NASA’s planned mission to the red planet. Their preparations are not going terribly smoothly and their bad luck continued when their attempt to safely deploy the Low Density Supersonic Decelerator landing module from 180,000 feet above the Pacific Ocean ended with an enormous splash. To put those figures into context, imagine Charlie Allan doing a belly flop off the top board at the Uptown Baths.

Luckily, for them and me, I think I may have solved their problem. My ‘Eureka’ moment occurred in the kitchen yesterday morning when my breakfast had an unexpected interaction with gravity. The solution struck me as soon as my buttery hit the floor. If NASA wants to ensure their lander hits the ground the right way up, I suggest they deploy Murphy’s first law of aerodynamics, and smother the bottom of it with jam.

It’s been another contraverbial week in the world of sport. A TV documentary has made some damning alligators about some big names in athletics using performance-enhancing drugs. I is scratching my head with that one, I have to say. Apart from that one time when I had to be subbed off for Inverurie Locos against Kintore after I got Vicks Vaporub in my eye, I’ve never touched no drugs. But that doesn’t say to mean I don’t know nothing about them. I seen that film ‘Trainspotting’ and the lads in that took heaps of drugs, but it never enhanced their performances one jotter – if anything, they looked like they would of been a liability, sport-wise.

Mind you, I suppose there’s all different kinds of drugs. They was saying that one of the runners was taking something cried Testarossa. If it’s anything like the one my old pal Frank McAvennie used to drive, what a speed he must have been going!